


Together Again

by hanzopanzo (floralstiel)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Aphrodisiacs, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, it's talon...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8687695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralstiel/pseuds/hanzopanzo
Summary: Reaper has him again, and this time he won't let him go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For McReyes Week day 5: reunion. A direct continuation of day 4, posted on my twitter (bigbaras) and tumblr (gachichubbs)!

“Jessito,” the thing had purred, and Jesse slumped against the wall in mute horror.

“You're not real,” he gasped, “can't be.”

The cloaked man—Reaper, Gabriel—closed the distance between them unnaturally quick, appearing in front of him with purplish black smoke coiled around him like an aura. It licked at the sides of Jesse’s face like a living thing. 

“Very real."

Jesse whined and ducked his head, not wanting to meet those hellish eyes he saw burning beneath the mask.

“ _Look at me._ ”

Jesse’s head snapped up, obeying orders near reflex at this point.

“You wouldn't know any better,” it said, head slightly cocked. “You weren't there.”

“I saw it on the news, I-”

“You. Weren't. There.”

Jesse shuddered and turned his head away.

“Are you ashamed?”

Jesse bit his lip and said nothing. Claws gripped his cheeks and turned him back around. His lower lip started trembling.

“Are you ashamed you ran? Things were too difficult for you, weren't they?”

Reaper caressed his cheek in mock tenderness, cooing with syrupy sarcasm.

“You were caught in the middle of an argument, it wasn't your fault, was it?”

“I-I…G-Gabe, please…”

“Shhh…” Reaper shook his head and pressed a cold talon to his lips, pressing hard enough to cut. “Don't interrupt.”

Jesse trembled and blood dripped down his chin.

“So you ran away. You’re always running, aren’t you, Jesse?”

Jesse couldn’t stop his tears. He sobbed and spluttered over the talon still pressed to his lip. The Reaper pulled his hand away and stroked Jesse’s cheek again, shushing him soothingly in that rough, garbled voice of his—ruined from the explosion, and whatever had been done to him after to turn him into this thing—and those claws trailed up into his hair, gripping just a shade too tight.

“You won’t run from me anymore, not after I’m finished with you.”

Jesse only had time to make a quick, startled noise before the pain ripped through his arm. He didn’t even register the booming report of the shotgun over his screams. Reaper was above him, all around and consuming, and black smoke poured into the open, gaping hole where his left forearm used to be. He watched, sickened, as the flesh knit closed, still bearing the marks of the bullet spray, and black ooze and blood dripped from the much smaller wounds. He reeled from the complete reversal of sensations, sudden pain to bone-deep chill and numbness.

“Wh-what…”

“Conserve your strength, boy,” Reaper growled, gripping his stump. The pain flared to life again like an angry fire. Jesse’s eyes rolled back and he shivered when Reaper pulled him from the wall. He dumped him on his back in the middle of the cell and stood over him, staring down with his head cocked, like now that he had him he had no idea what to do with him. Jesse coughed and lolled his head on the cement floor. He didn’t even know where he was.

He’d ran from Blackwatch months before the headquarters explosion, and it had been about a year since then, a year spent drowning himself in booze and sex, pointless and fruitless run-ins with the law and old acquaintances of the illegal type. Anything to fill the pit inside him, left by the man standing over him. Gabriel had died in that explosion, there was no way around it. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him.

“I need you to do something for me,” Reaper said. Jesse wheezed in panic when he crouched over him, deadly thighs and muscle mass framing him, pressing against his severed arm.

“I need you to stay with me. No more running away. I won’t let you.”

Reaper pulled a syringe from the folds of his coat. Jesse trembled and scrambled to get away, and Reaper simply sat on his chest, forcing the air from his lungs in a gush and whine. He cried, he begged, and Reaper shushed him again—a near constant sound, wind wheezing through the cracks in a window—and plunged the needle into his neck. Jesse stared upward, sightless and frozen in a silent scream as fire shot through his veins leaving him breathless, motionless, stiffened in pure agony that spread from head to toe.

“Hmm,” Reaper hummed, “there, there. It’ll all be over soon.”

Motion returned to him slowly, yet all at once. He gasped and screamed, jerking beneath Reaper’s bulk, who barely budged. His feet drummed against the concrete and his whole arm flailed madly, falling at last onto Reaper’s thigh to grip tight and claw. Reaper’s gloved hand covered his own, a parody of tenderness as those talons gripped his flesh, and Jesse moaned through locked teeth as the feeling finally, finally subsided, dropping to a low thrum in his bones.

“Better?”

Jesse nodded unintentionally. Reaper chuckled and produced a second syringe, much smaller, just as menacing. Jesse’s eyes bulged and he panted, eyeing it with dread.

“This won’t hurt,” Reaper simpered, slapping his face lightly, “you used to be tougher than this.”

He pushed the needle into Jesse’s wrist and watched with single-minded focus as the reddish liquid pumped into his bloodstream. Reaper groaned when the syringe finally emptied, tossing it across the room, and he bracketed Jesse’s face with his hands. Whatever he saw pleased him, and he released his head with a nod. Jesse grew lax, the pain lessened to an almost pleasant throb, and he could imagine he could feel each pulse of blood that rushed through his veins. He moaned again, softer, with a different tone and entirely different feel that left him flushed and mortified. Reaper palmed his crotch with a sort of casual possession that left Jesse shivering and disgusted, yet his body writhed of its own accord, pressing into that clawed, frigid hand.

Reaper hummed again, ragged, and stood, kicking Jesse’s legs apart. Jesse wanted to close them, desperately, but couldn’t move. Reaper stood with his feet on either side of Jesse’s waist, considering him.

“You know, you look good, all things considered. But I wouldn’t have our reunion any other way.”

Jesse sobbed. The door opened across the room and a group of uniformed men filed in, one of them pushing a cart with instruments, vials, knives…The men rolled up their sleeves, cocky, rolling their necks, grinning down at Jesse, who could only stare up at them in shock. Reaper stepped back into the corner, into the dark when the first man started working at his belt. Jesse frantically looked to the corner. Reaper wasn’t even looking at him, he had his arms crossed and stared resolutely at the door.

“Don’t worry, kid,” one of them said as he unzipped his fly, “Talon’s gonna take _real_ good care of you.”

It was soon after that when Jesse gained the strength to scream.

 

 


End file.
